Marco Bodt Appreciation Week Fics
by 28-characters-later
Summary: Day 1:Ambitions-Moral Code or Growing Up Day 2:Strength of Weakness-Observations or Feint of steel/faint of heart Day 3:Patience-Tough Love or Salad Days Day 4:Pledges and Pathways-Stand your ground or Pride Day 5:Fresh meat-First Day or "Did I make a mistake?" Day 6:Wakeup call-Interrupted lifeline or Epiphany Day 7:The One In Which Marco Is Alive-Horsing Around or Growing Pains
1. Chapter 1

The air was thick and heavy, causing the blankets to cling to Marco's body like a wet leaf. Kicking the covers off he found it wasn't just the blankets that had constricted themselves around him. How did she even get into the male sleeping quarters? Sighing and running a tired hand through his hair, Marco peeled the arm away as he pulled himself from the bed.

Marco, careful to not wake her up, gently lifted the redhead and carried her back to the female quarters. Yawning, Marco slipped out of the room, making a mental note to ask her why she keeps sneaking in there. She'd started acting weird ever since they'd enlisted together. And she was weirdly aggressive towards Mina.

Going to one of the bathrooms, Marco splashed some cool water on his face. Summer nights had their good points, but the heat always got to Marco.

Wiping the extra water off on his pajama pants, Marco staggered outside. The gentle breeze felt refreshing. He yawned and leant his head against the wooden doorframe, closing his eyes. He was still very tired.

The sound of soft footsteps joining him caused him to crack an eye open to see who it was.

"Can't sleep, Armin?"

The blond jumped slightly before nodding, "I could ask you the same question."

Marco snickered once, shaking his head. "I'm not a fan of hot summer nights. What about you? Why can't you sleep?"

"I just… have a lot on my mind. Everything that's going on, you know?"

Marco nodded. It'd only been a handful of months since training started but everyone was on edge: snappish, tearful, and withdrawn. Some had even already left, unable to handle the level of strain put on them from training.

"…Can I ask you a question?"

Brown eyes flickered over to meet bright blue. Marco nodded.

"Did you mean what you said? About why you want into the Military Police?"

Marco let a sigh out through his nose, thinking over his answer. "Yes and no," he finally responded, "it's complicated. I do want to work there, that is my goal, but … I do know that branch has its flaws. Big flaws. Very, very big flaws." Marco couldn't put his finger on it but any time he was around a member of the Military Police, true he was star struck, but at the same time there was an inescapable sense of fear or dread that would almost paralyze him on the spot. He was on edge around them. "I want to get in there and see if there's something I can do, change it for the better." Marco ran a hand through his hair, not really caring if he messed it up any further than it already was.

Armin regarded Marco with a nod. "We both kind of want the same thing then. I mean I'm following Eren and Mikasa into the scouts, but we both want things changed for the better. I also … I don't want to hold them back, I rely on them a lot."

Marco tilted his head, "I don't know them as well as you do, but I'm sure they don't think that way of you."

"I guess. My last reason is that I want to see the outside world. I want to see an ocean for real."

"An ocean? Hm." Marco turned his head up to the sky, watching the stars momentarily before gazing back down at Armin. "That's a nice goal." He grinned. "Maybe after a while I'll come join you guys out there."

Armin nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, do!"

It wasn't long before Marco yawned again and gestured back inside with a jerk of his thumb. "I'm going to see if I can get back to sleep, you should too. Shadis will probably work us into the ground if he notices we're tired."

"Yeah, you're right…"

"C'mon, we can talk more tomorrow."

The boys trudged back inside to try and catch a little more sleep.


	2. Observation

"God damn, someone needs to shut that brat up," a man said, covering his ears.

Marco turned his head from side to side trying to find where the screaming was coming from. Maybe there was some way he could help. Sprinting to the rather busy market stalls, the freckled teen ignored Jean calling after him that _they didn't have time for this_ and that Shadis would probably have their hides if they didn't return soon. Soon he came to an exasperated mother trying to make a little boy to stop crying. Every time she tried to grab the boy's arm he would lash out.

"Is there any way I can help?" Marco asked, once he'd jogged to the pair.

The woman eyed his trainee uniform before shrugging. "He's just having a temper tantrum, it's embarrassing. You can try but he's just being a brat until he gets his way."

Brown eyes travelled down to the child crying on the ground. He wasn't pointing at a treat or toy, but just seemed very upset: crying, yelling, but not deliberately seeming to want anything. He'd seen this before. With his little brother, if noises, colours, and crowds became too much for the youngest Bodt, he'd have a meltdown.

"Do you mind if I take him out of the crowd for a moment?"

"I don't see how it'll help but go ahead, he'll hit you if you try to take his arm."

Marco nodded and crouched down to the small child's level, he turned back to the mother briefly. "What's his name?"

"Sven."

Marco focused quietly on the boy. He held out a hand but didn't make a grab for the child, just held his hand out and kept it there within reach for him. When he spoke he kept his voice soft and quiet. "Sven, hey Sven, it's alright. My name's Marco. Things are a bit much for you right now, aren't they? Can you come sit with me right over there?" With his other hand he gestured just outside the gathering of people. "There's less noise and people there."

Sven, still crying, eventually seemed to notice Marco's motionless hand. After a moment he finally took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and led to a quieter, emptier section of the street.

Eyes wide, the mother soon joined them. Marco stayed kneeling at the boy's height, keeping his hand out for the boy to hold. Slowly the tears stopped.

Marco smiled softly up at the mother. "I have an autistic little brother. Sometimes things become just too much for him, too much noise, people, it could end up being anything really. It leads to a sensory overload and then a meltdown."

"Marco! C'mon we need to head back!"

Twisting around slightly to address Jean, who had his arms crossed and was irritably tapping a foot, Marco nodded with an apologetic smile. "I know, I know, hold on." He turned back to Sven, "Are you alright now, Sven?" Sven nodded and only then did Marco pull his hand back. "I'm glad. I have to go now, be a good boy for your mother, Sven."

Standing and heading over the Jean, the other teen grabbed his arm and dashed off, dragging Marco along. "If we get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

Marco sighed, letting out a soft chuckle, "That's fine, Jean."


	3. Tough Love

Black brows furrowed together as he listened to the fight behind him.

"You're really some suicidal little punk, Jaeger!"

"At least I'll be doing something with my life, not hiding like a coward!"

This had been going on for close to an hour now. The smallest things would set Jean and Eren into a heated fight. Marco finally stood, figuring it wouldn't be long before punches were being thrown. Giving a nod to Armin, each one began trying to pull their respective hot-headed friend away.

"Marco, quit it! I've got him this time!"

"Sure you do." Marco didn't release Jean until they'd arrived at the nearest vacant room. Marco forced Jean to sit on the first bench they came to: much like a parent forcing a child into time-out. "Sit here and just breathe in and out. Slowly. We'll go back to the others in a while."

Jean huffed, folded his arms tightly over his chest and seethed quietly.

Moving behind the livid teen, Marco started to rub and squeeze the stiff shoulders.

"I bet she's coddling him like some victimized puppy," Jean snarled more to himself than to Marco.

It didn't take a genius to know who Jean was talking about. Jealously held Marco's heart in a firm icy grip but he said nothing. Instead he kept working Jean's shoulders until the other finally began to relax. After a moment Marco pulled his hands away and sat down heavily beside the other. "Feeling better?"

Jean nodded. "For now." He was trying to wind Marco up now, with the suggestion of another fight later on rather than just saying simply that the recent anger had finally drained away. He was smirking though.

Marco sighed but still quietly smiled to his friend. That might be all they'll ever be, but Marco was still glad for at least that.


	4. Stand Your Ground

"Marco, for the love of humanity can you _stop_ trying to cook!"

Marco dumped a few randomly assorted items into the large pot, ignoring the pained twist on his boyfriend's face. "I'm never going to get better if I don't practice."

Jean pushed his fingers through the longer part of his undercut and gripped the lighter brown strands. "Marco, babe, last time you confused baking _powder_ for baking _soda_ and we had to spend an hour cleaning the oven! And then because we couldn't waste the food, we had to eat it anyway!" Thank god Sasha had no problem with that. The girl's appetite had been a godsend that day.

"Well they shouldn't make things so similar. I'll get this if I keep practicing." Marco added a frightening amount of ginger to the pot.

Lunging forward Jean took the jar from the freckled boy. He grimaced down into the pot. There were potatoes, apples and corn bubbling away in a sticky brown goo. Even Marco had to be bad at something but Oh Lordy was he _bad_ at cooking. It was almost unreal how he never seemed to _get_ it, but stubbornly persisted in trying to learn.

Forcing a grin, Jean started pulling Marco from the kitchen. "I'll … finish things in here with your … um, _interesting_ concoction. You go. Somewhere. Maybe get Armin to teach you how to read a cook book if you want to cook so badly."

Marco wiggled from Jean's grip, heading back to his pot. "Why don't you help _me_ fix this then, so I can learn."

Jean dragged himself back over to the pot to peer into it. He shuddered. There really wasn't much that could be done to save this. If the ginger hadn't been added, the apples could have been removed for it to be more of a stew.

"Maybe we can add more of the other things to hide the ginger taste…Here." Grabbing a nearby wooden spoon, Jean shoved it into Marco's hands. "Get the apples out, maybe we can do something with them but they can't be used for this. … What was everything you added in here?"

Taking the spoon, Marco started to fish out the chunks of apple. "Apples, potatoes, corn, pepper, garlic, nutmeg and you came in for the ginger."

"Jesus Christ, Marco, didn't you get to play 'destroying the kitchen' as a child?"

"…Mom banned me from the kitchen at home."

"Gee. I wonder why."

Marco huffed and then stuck his lower lip out giving sad wide eyes to his boyfriend, "Just help me fix it?"

"Yeah, yeah I'll try. I'm no miracle worker though."


	5. First DayDid I Make A Mistake?

Wide brown eyes followed Shadis as he continued to shout at various new recruits. He was still trying to piece together what had just been implied to him. _I doubt the king will find you to his taste, if you know what I mean._ Marco wasn't stupid, he could catch onto the meaning of that statement. And it left a sour feeling in his stomach.

He knew the interior wasn't perfect, he knew there were problems, but he certainly wouldn't think that 'serving the king' was meant quite that literally. A bead of cold sweat travelled down his forehead. Maybe he didn't want into the interior as much as he thought he did. His parents had been reluctant to let him go off to train as it was; they'd made him wait an extra year to decide if he truly wanted to do this. It was why he was thirteen rather than twelve like most of the others.

Marco swallowed the lump in his throat. He was here now, he couldn't back out so soon. Leaving on the very first day? That make him a failure: something he'd never been, but also an embarrassment.

Marco's attention was diverted when a hand pulled on the sleeve of his new trainee's jacket. Following the arm, Marco's brown eyes met Mina's grey ones. The noirette girl had moved to a spot behind him.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as that in the interior, and if it is maybe you would be able to change it."

After a moment Marco nodded. That had been his goal after all. The whole reason he'd enlisted. His cheerful smile found its spot on his face. Maybe he'd just needed to be reminded of that.

"You're right. I'm Marco."

She let out a soft laugh, "Yes I just heard, I'm Mina. Would you like to be friends through training?"

"Yeah, I'd like that, Mina." And just like that things started to look better again.


	6. Interupted Lifeline

Jean bent down, kissing Marco softly on the lips. "We'll be back before you know it." He brushed his fingers, once, across Marco's undamaged cheek; they lingered.

Marco rested his own hand softly over Jean's. "I know, just, please be careful. Alright?"

"Always, babe." With one final kiss, Jean then turned his attention to the little girl, bouncing on her toes, lifting her up and over his head. "Hey, Madison! You take care of things while I'm gone, ok princess?" Madison giggled and hugged her father. Jean hugged her back tightly before setting her down on Marco's lap. He mounted his horse, turning it to join the rest of the Scouting Legion. Jean turned his head to look over his shoulder at his little family. "Love you two." He always told the two he loved them, but this time it felt…different, weird. There was a hole punched in his stomach, dragging his eyes back to his now husband and adopted toddler, again and again, as Marco sat there in the wheelchair he'd needed after the accident.

Erwin shouted the move out order. It was time to go. Jean hated going: expeditions outside the walls never lasted very long but usually for terrible reasons. Either the scouts were able to return quickly, or missions ended suddenly when too many scouts were eaten. Jean preferred the former.

The horses cantered out through the open gates of the large wall.

The mission didn't go as planned.

It had been a full day by now. Sure, missions could sometimes go for a lot longer but not the shorter ones, which this had been planned to be. Trying to push aside his worries, Marco laughed lightly as Madison jumped, skipped, and bounced around excitedly next to the large wheels of the chair. "I know, little one, I know, Daddy's coming home. I'm excited too."

The gates opened. Finally the Scouts appeared. Horses pulling carts carrying broken soldiers filed slowly inside the walls. Madison climbed up on to Marco's lap, so she could get a better view.

While peering up into each bruised and sad looking face, Marco caught Armin's eyes and waved. The blond turned away, hiding his tears. Fear started clawing its way into Marco's chest. A wide brown eye scanned the faces in a frenzied manner.

But he never saw him.

Jean never rode in on his horse. Didn't greet them with a gentle kiss for Marco, lifting Madison into the air. He was a shadow. He wasn't there.

Marco swallowed the lump growing in his throat. This couldn't be happening; Jean was the most skilled with the 3D Maneuver Gear, was always careful around titans… He was one of the best squad leaders Marco had known. He couldn't be...

Marco's attention fell to Madison when she started pulling on the sleeve of his shirt. "Where's Daddy, Papa?"

"I..." He trailed off, he didn't know what to say. His uncovered eye filled with tears as he hugged his confused child close. "I don't know, baby. I don't know."


	7. Horsing Around

Marco glared down at the wheelchair he was sitting in. He hated it. It wasn't something he let the others know, pretending to be fine so they wouldn't worry. But he hated it. He felt useless not being able to walk, he felt weak for having been trapped in it in the first place. He belonged out there, with his friends – the family he'd formed in training. They were risking their lives every day fighting for humanity. And where was he? Inside being a secretary, sitting on his fattening ass and doing nothing. It wasn't really fattening: he still did the few exercises that he could. Plus he had to keep his arms strong for the chair. But in this mind-set it was very easy for him to find faults with himself.

He didn't hear the door open and close, he was too deep in his own thoughts. He didn't hear Jean call his name, he only noticed the other when he felt a pair of arms slide around him.

"Hey baby, you're quiet today?"

Marco sighed and nodded. "Yeah, just thinking."

Jean rested his head on the freckled boy's shoulder. "About?" though there was a knowing in his voice. Marco didn't say anything. Jean sighed. "Marco…"

"I'm sorry I can't help anymore."

Jean tightened his arms around Marco. "You do, and not just with the notes and shit."

"How? Moral support? I'm sure that helps a lot when people are being eaten and if at least one other person was there someone getting killed might not have happened."

Jean rubbed up and down along Marco's shoulders. "Hey, hey, don't be like that." Marco remained silent. "You better not be thinking negatively of yourself. Self-hate isn't allowed in this house." Marco sighed out through his nose, but he otherwise remained quiet. Jean moved around the side, scooping Marco out of the wheelchair. Mindful of his boyfriend's legs, Jean carried him to the couch and dumped him on it. "Looks like I'm gunna have to make you happy." With that he lifted Marco's shirt.

"Jean… I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, no, no it's not _that_." With that Jean bent down, blowing out a puff of air on Marco's stomach. Marco's uncovered eye widened as he couldn't help but snicker softly. "There we go! That's better."

Marco reached down, and gently pulled Jean up, wrapping his arms around him. He knew Jean was just trying to help, and when the freckled boy entered a state of mind like this, that wasn't an easy task. Maybe if he gave in and let Jean try to cheer him up it would work. He didn't like being in these moods. Pushing Jean back up with the flat of his hand, Marco sat up, carefully moving his legs over the side of the couch. He then grabbed one of the couch cushions, tossed it to Jean, and then grabbed another, forcing a cheerful grin. That was what he usually did; fake the happiness until he was able to actually feel it. "Alright, let's see how you are at a pillow war."

Jean smirked himself, raising his pillow to block a swipe from Marco's. "You're on, Freckles." He swung his own pillow which was blocked by Marco's.

As the play fight went on, Marco found himself actually enjoying it, his spirits lifting as the various swings were given more energy.

"You're cheating, you keep blocking my swings!" he giggled.

Jean laughed, blocking another swing. "Not my fault you hit like a little kid! Mikey's got more power!"

Marco's mouth dropped in mock hurt. "Ho ho ho… now you're gunna get it." Using his arms, he pushed himself forward and climbed onto Jean, effectively pinning him. "Now whatcha gunna do?"

Jean's hands shot under Marco's arms, slender fingers lightly poking and prodding causing the boy above to melt down into laughs. To counter, Marco started a similar assault on Jean's ribs.

"Gah! No! Mercy! Mercy!" Jean shouted between his own fits of bubbly laugher.

This continued on for a while until the pair needed to pause and allow themselves to breathe.

Sighing a chuckle, Marco leant down and rested his forehead on Jean's, closing his eye as he did so. "Thank you." He did feel better.

Jean tilted his head, stealing a quick kiss. "No problem, babe."


End file.
